


모함  - Set up

by spoky



Series: Fat, Fem and Asian [3]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoky/pseuds/spoky
Summary: DISCLAIMER: This story is RPF, meaning that I use the star image of real people to tell a completely fictional story. It's not meant to offend or insult anyone. Please do not share my fiction with the people I write about on social media or otherwise. Thank you. (For full disclaimer, please see my profile.)From 가능성이 낮다 - Unlikely:“A weekend, huh?” Kim confirms and looks up to Alaska. The queen seems slightly uncomfortable but nods.“Yeah,” she whispers, looking at Kim in the eyes. “A weekend.”This one is about that weekend.





	모함  - Set up

_“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pulls my shirt over my head and presses his lips into my neck as soon as it falls to the floor._

 

There is something wrong with the mirror. It either reflects light differently than other mirrors or alternatively it has misunderstood its purpose in life. Mirrors are supposed to reflect reality. This one doesn't.  
  
"I told you, fits like a glove."

I glance at Alaska briefly before bringing my eyes back to scrutinise my reflection. I'm looking for a word. I wouldn't say handsome in any circumstances, but I definitely look something along the lines of what my grandmother would describe as "dashing".

 

_His hands feel cold as he explores the shape of my body. I want his mouth on me but he keeps teasing me with mere hints and fickle promises of a blowjob._

 

The light purple bowtie Alaska has tied around my neck initially made me feel uncomfortable. I couldn't see how it would work with the dark orange shirt he insisted I wear. Now, looking at my reflection, I can see that the tones complement each other in a very interesting way. It's surprising. 

 

 _His frame is smaller than mine but somehow he manages to come across intimidating as he tells me to get into the shower. I can't believe he wants to go through with it all, but he seems determined. As he joins me under the warm water, his cock half hard, I finally dare to hope that he actually wants me._  


He reaches for a black blazer and indicates that I should put it on. I of course follow instructions, because what do I know about fancy restaurants? Nothing. I know nothing about places where gay men take each other on expensive dinner dates. I assume it’s expensive. He hasn’t actually told me where we’re going.

 

_“I want to fuck you so bad. ”_

 

Alaska has informed me that he knows of the restaurant through a friend, and I'm a little unsure whether this is a good idea. It feels like we’re surpassing some type of boundary by leaving the hotel room. A boundary I’m not necessarily ready to cross in this game of ours. 

 

_He wraps a towel around my shoulders and absentmindedly plays with my testicles. I finally gather enough courage to reach for his cock and give it an exploratory squeeze. He groans and closes his eyes._

 

The blazer brings the entire outfit together and a shy smile escapes me.  
  
"Took you long enough."  
  
I chuckle at his words. I still wouldn't vouch for the mirror, but I do have to admit that I look, well, presentable.  
  
Alaska steps next to me and he's dressed all in black, except for the purple-orange striped pocket square he's folded neatly into his front pocket.

 

 _I can’t get all of him into my mouth without choking. His precum tastes salty on my tongue and while I'm fully aware that he’s received better head, he seems appreciative enough. He caresses my hair as a sign of a ‘job well done’ and asks me to push a finger inside him. I do as requested._  


"I didn't think you'd want to match," I say quietly. We're not really a couple. We're just pretending for the weekend. He keeps insisting that it's real, but I haven’t been able to fully commit to the play.

 

_I'm completely unprepared for it when he taps my shoulder. I take too long to decide whether I want to swallow, and as I back away at the last second, some of his cum ends up on my face. He think it's funny, cute, and leans down to clean my cheek with one slow lick. The action sends shivers of arousal down my spine._

 

He eyes me carefully, but eventually smirks before exclaiming in mock horror: "Girl, this is like wearing a couple t-shirts! Could you appreciate my cultural awareness at least a little?"  
  
I don't know how he knows about the Korean custom, but the joke makes me laugh.  

 

 _It's unlike anything I've ever felt before and I'm not sure if I like it. “Relax, you're clean. It's alright.” I wiggle into a better position and take a deep breath, trying to relax.  I don't understand ho- Oh… Oh!_  


"I've never understood why you'd want to wear the same shirt as your lover in public," I admit. Some Korean dating practices fly completely over my head.  
  
"A sign of ownership, I would think," he smirks, "a little like these."  
  
He brushes his fingers over the hickeys he’s decorated my neck with. He seems proud of them. I'm little proud of them too. They're a sign that someone wants me, that someone thinks I'm attractive. Even if it is just pretense for a weekend.

 

_I feel exposed lying in front of him, my hips higher than my chest due to the pillows he's piled underneath me. I feel myself opening up to him as he pushes into me and I'm little surprised how little discomfort there is. It’s not comfortable exactly, but it's not uncomfortable either. He kisses my neck and gives me a compliment I don't fully believe to be true._

  
He presses a kiss on my temple and the gentle touch makes me close my eyes. He feels so good I want to curse out loud. Trixie was right. I will miss his gentle touches and the soft kisses that make my heart race. I will miss the uncontrolled, rough movements he makes when he's about to come, his strong, confident hold on my hips when he fucks me.  
  
My thoughts return to Friday evening and to the party. The party where Jinkx's leftover drink had gotten me too drunk to think clearly. The party where Trixie had wanted to warn me about the dangers of casual encounters; wanted to warn me about the possible consequences of giving in to the charms of Ms. Thunderfuck.  
  
"You're thinking too much again."  
  
I smile at him and pull him closer.  
  
"Let's just stay in. Let's fuck. Let's take a bath and in the morning we can both go back to being over-effeminate bottoms, colleagues and friends."  
  
He brushes his thumb over my left eyebrow before taking my face between his palms and dropping a brush of a kiss onto my lips.

 

 _Fuck, Alaska, I'm going to… Just little more, just… No, not th- yes, that. Again? Fuck._  


"I'd love to, but we have plans. Can you do one more night with me? For me?"  
  
I know what he's asking. He wants me to commit to the script that we're dating. That we're actually a couple. It's nice that he's so devoted, but I’ve never had the actor training he possesses. For me it's all about tapping into my actual emotions and feelings without the skill of compartmentalisation.

His puppy eyes make me yield.

 

 _I make a mess of the pillows as I come, his cock buried deep inside me, his lips on my neck, his hand on my shoulder for support. It's good. It’s fucking amazing. It’s real gay sex._  


"For you, anything," I say, adopting the appropriate words and tone of a loving boyfriend. He seems happy, dropping yet another kiss to my lips, and I have to wonder whether he's playing the game as much for himself as for me. I don't dare address the issue, so I don't ask.  
  
Katya would tell me to live in the moment, to be more where my feet are, and in this moment, in this fragile construct of ours, the game feels right. It feels like the only possible direction to follow, so I make a conscious effort to think of myself as "the boyfriend-Thunderfuck". Even if it’s just for the rest of today. 

  
** 

  
“Name, please?”  
  
“Honard.”  
  
“Ah, table for four. Please, follow me.”  
  
The restaurant is busy and I'm slightly taken aback when I realise that our reservation is for four. He's invited someone to join us. I silently pray that there won't be other RuGirls. I can't even begin to imagine the awkwardness of that scenario.  
  
Luckily I don't know either of the two men already sitting in our table. Alaska is greeted with enthusiastic hugs and as the shorter of the two turns to shake my hand, I suddenly recognise him as Jeremy, Alaska's musician friend. I can barely hold a tune.  
  
"Nice to meet you," he says cheerfully. "I'm Jeremy, and this is Markus."  
  
I shake his hand and then Markus', who looks at me suspiciously. He's not very tall but has wide shoulders. His eyes are also a little close together but the bright green in them more than makes up for the flaw.  
  
Alaska pulls me a chair and I take a seat next to Jeremy, opposite Markus, who doesn't seem to care for my presence. He doesn't talk to me or look straight at me as we order red wine and starters. They make small talk about theatre, about music and video games. Jeremy gets particularly excited about something he calls Dungeons and Dragons, and I realise that I haven't said a word since hello.  
  
"I used to own a Nintendo," I say and they all turn to look at me. Jeremy looks confused and Alaska is clearly trying not to laugh. Markus looks at me like I've suddenly grown a second head. I realise my comment must be off-topic, but I have no idea why that might be.  
  
"I mean, I don't really know a lot about games," I offer as an explanation and Alaska laughs.  
  
"No worries, babe, we weren't expecting you to."  
  
Markus chokes on his wine and Jeremy pats his back.  
  
"Babe?!" Markus exclaims to Alaska and keeps glancing between him and me, as if following a ping-pong match.  
  
"Oh yes," Alaska drawls. "We're dating," he explains, brings his hand under my chin, leans in and pecks me to the corner of my mouth. Markus looks like he might either throw up or swear really colourfully. He does neither, but leans back in his seat and raises his eyebrows.  
  
"You're fucking kidding me," he says and while his tone is accusing, he seems somehow relieved.  
  
"Not at all," Alaska says and chuckles slightly. Jeremy is sipping his wine at a faster pace now. I figure he's doing it to avoid being part of the conversation.  
  
Markus rolls his eyes and then looks at me with more intrigue. I start to feel uncomfortable under his rather predatory stare.  
  
"So," he says slowly. "You two have finally given up on setting me up with every Asian guy you can find, then?"  
  
Markus' words force me to look at the situation from a completely different angle. I glance at Alaska but he doesn't offer any explanation, merely shrugs at Markus and starts playing with my hair, drawing Markus' and Jeremy's attention to the hickeys on my neck. I'm confused. I'm on a date with Alaska, am I not?  
  
"You made it pretty clear last time that you wanted us to stop," Jeremy says, finally joining the conversation.  
  
Markus nods, chuckling, and turns his attention to me. Suddenly he doesn't seem to mind my presence. How odd.  

For the rest of the dinner, Markus makes more effort to include to me. He’s being exceedingly nice. He engages me in conversation and before I realise it, he has unintentionally wooed me with his knowledge of modern Japanese literature, the accidental misogyny of East Asian pop-culture, and critique of neo-confucian social norms. He's using two straws as chopsticks to illustrate a story of taking his parents to eat sashimi, when something extraordinary suddenly occurs to me. I am not on a date with Alaska Thunderfuck. I'm carefully, and rather discreetly, being set up with a handsome, half-German scholar, who has a weird passion towards _nihonjinron_ and East Asian politics. I glance at Alaska and he smiles at me apologetically.  
  
"I thought you might make him happy," he says quietly as Jeremy and Markus debate whether the Park Geun-hye impeachment was an act of social justice or not. "I'm sorry for not telling you."  
  
I smile at Alaska and give his hand an affirming squeeze.  
  
"Don't be sorry," I say as I notice Markus giving me an interested but discreet once-over across the table. “I’m not.” 

I catch myself silently hoping that Markus is a top.  
  
  
  
__________________  
  
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